The Mature Neighbor Who Was Waiting for Me with the Door Open

It’s been a while since I last sat down to write anything, and not for lack of desire. Life has gotten serious on me: no more sneaking off into other people’s doorways where a good man waits for me with the heat turned all the way up, no more stolen afternoons. I’ve been in a dry spell for months now, and I’m starting to climb the walls. So, since almost everything I tell you really happened, I’ve decided to rescue a memory from a few years ago to soothe, even if only halfway, this lust I’ve been dragging around.

Today’s lead character was a neighbor. Not from my building, but from my neighborhood, someone I met three times before the world shut down.

Of the few times I had anything like an exclusive relationship, one was this one. The other ended badly, because the guy who used to call himself my owner didn’t leave a hole untapped behind my back. With this neighbor, though, everything was clean while it lasted.

I found him the way these things are found: one sleepless night, sliding my finger across an app, and coming across a man who was barely three streets from my house. Damián, he called himself. Uruguayan, close to fifty, tall and broad without being fat, with gray hair but still plenty of it. One of those men whose size is properly proportioned: big hands, big feet, and what hung between them, judging by the photos, big too.

We talked for several days before meeting. He was calm, the type who writes full sentences and asks how your day went. He was looking for someone for sex, yes, but also to talk to afterward. And I, with my old wound of an absent father, fit into that gap like a piece that had spent years looking for its place.

—Doesn’t it make your head spin that we live so close? —I wrote him one of those nights.

—Quite the opposite —he replied—. It means you have no excuse.

***

I remember that first afternoon with a clarity that other later encounters don’t have. I got ready slowly: well shaved, as I like to be when I’m about to meet someone, and with a good bit of intimate hygiene in case things went where we both knew they were going to go. I put on the first thing I found, because I knew it wouldn’t stay on long, and I walked over to his building with my heart in my throat.

The first thing that hit me was precisely that: how close it was. I had to look twice to either side to make sure no one I knew saw me go in. The second was the nerves when I pressed the intercom. No one answered. Instead of the voice I expected, I heard the buzz of the door opening on its own, and a shiver ran through me from top to bottom.

That’s it. Now you can’t back out.

I climbed the three flights slowly, feeling my legs tremble on every step. When I reached the landing, the apartment door opened before I could knock, as if he’d been counting my footsteps so he wouldn’t keep me waiting even a second. I slipped inside, closed the door behind me, and took a breath. The plan was going perfectly: no one had seen me.

No one except him, who was waiting standing in the living room in an olive-green bathrobe and with a serene smile. The whole house was warm, and that little heat relaxed my nerves almost at once. We greeted each other with two kisses, introduced ourselves in low voices, and I confessed that I was trembling.

—It’ll pass in no time —he said, in that deep, calm voice I already knew from the chat—. Here you don’t have to prove anything.

And he was right. While he kept talking about anything at all, I started taking my clothes off without him asking, one garment after another, until I was completely naked in front of him. My hands couldn’t find anywhere to rest. I felt the breeze from the apartment on my ass and my bare feet sticking to the laminate floor.

Then he loosened the belt of his robe and let it fall open. A mature man’s body, with a little belly and some body hair, nothing excessive. And between his legs, what the photos hadn’t quite managed to convey: a cock still at rest whose size already surpassed many I’d tried erect. The glans, thick and pink, circumcised, soft to the eye, promising to grow much more as soon as the blood got to work.

I don’t know whether it showed on the outside, but on the inside I smiled. I dropped to my knees on the rug, looked up at him, and silently offered him exactly what I had come for: a hungry boy.

***

The conversation died away. A couple of hot remarks remained, and not much more. Damián took his member in one hand and brought it to my parted lips. Of all the details time has erased, that first contact with his soft, warm glans is not one of them.

I licked it slowly, enjoying it, barely nibbling at it, drawing out the taste of his skin as it began to tense. In just a few seconds it filled my mouth completely and it started to get hard to take it in and out. But I consider myself skilled, and my lips traced the shape of his cock every time it slid past the corner of my mouth.

If someone had frozen the scene, they would have seen a mature man standing there, looking down at how his new companion was sucking him off on his knees. We stayed like that for a good while. He never grabbed my head to force me; he stroked my hair as if thanking me, setting a gentle rhythm that I gladly followed.

The heat rises and rises, and at some point you have to let it out. He made me stand up and laid me on the bed. I should have said earlier that the living room, quite open and airy, had a pullout sofa bed open in the center, big, a double. I suspected then that he didn’t live alone, something I later confirmed: the following dates always depended on his roommate not being there.

On the bed he kissed my whole body. Since mouth kisses do nothing for me, he unloaded his lust elsewhere: he sucked my nipples while squeezing my ass with those huge hands, traced my neck, licked slowly down to my hole, making it clear where the next stop would be. We had talked about it in the chat in plain terms, and that first time was already agreed to be barrier-free. Risky, I know. But we both held up our end, and everything went fine.

One of his fingers, slick with lubricant, began to open the way for me. I stared at the ceiling with my legs spread, moaning, not so much for the finger itself as for everything that gesture meant. My surrender was total. The lube did its job and soon two fingers were sliding inside me while I writhed, asking for more. I wanted him to take them out and replace them with something much bigger.

He made me scoot up a little on the mattress and placed a pillow under my lower back, leaving my ass high, offered, easy to reach for anyone with good aim. I looked at him with desire. He looked at me and at the place where, in a moment, he was going to go in.

***

Without my having to do anything, I saw that his hand was already guiding his cock to my entrance. It had stayed hard the whole time, which I suppose was a very pleasurable warm-up for him. Slowly, but without stopping, I felt the glans push in and overcome the resistance. It forced the walls open without hurting me; I only felt its maximum hardness making its way in.

I moaned louder as he went all the way in and then stayed still for a few seconds inside me, giving my body time to adjust to the invasion. I was impaled, with my legs half raised and held by my own hands, his pelvis banging against my open ass. The union was complete. Only the most important thing remained: pulling out to go back in. Out and back in.

He held my calves and started moving, first softly, then harder, always measuring how my body responded. There was never pain, only a dense pleasure rising up from inside. His cock seemed to know me by heart. The slaps started sounding as he drove himself into me, and in one of those moments, with my eyes almost rolled back, I asked him for one thing.

—Take a picture of me —I begged him.

And he did. I still have it. I don’t even want to count how many times it’s served me over the years.

That’s how, with a neighborhood neighbor, I found someone to fuck in total intimacy and with a passion I hadn’t expected. I wanted to be his boy, and he agreed to be that figure who took care of me in exchange for keeping my body. A wordless arrangement that suited us both perfectly.

***

I remember that afterward he put me on all fours, but his pleasure was already too much to hold back much longer. His fantasy was to finish in the shower, and I followed him gladly. Under the hot water, I knelt and obeyed when he asked me to lick his balls. I would have wanted him to fuck me again, but I wasn’t the one in charge there, so I understood my place and didn’t demand anything. I only made an effort to make him finish as he deserved that afternoon.

In the shower stall, while I was masturbating, I licked those two heavy balls while he shook his cock a hand’s breadth from my face. His arousal was extreme. He warned me with a growl that he couldn’t hold out any longer and, a second later, started spraying my face with jets of hot semen. I closed my eyes and felt it sliding down my forehead, over my eyelids, my nose, dripping down to my tightly shut lips.

I had never tasted anyone’s cum before, and the excitement drove me to do something crazy. I opened my eyes, opened my mouth, and caught the tip of his cock just as it let go of the last drops. They fell onto my tongue while I sucked hard, drawing spasms all through his body. He was unhinged, and I think I managed to surprise him. With a couple of hoarse groans he let me know there was nothing left in him.

For the curious: no, I didn’t swallow it. I spit out what I had in my mouth, and the drain took that and what was running down my face.

Then came the other part, the one that hooked me just as much as the sex. He let me shower at my own pace, brought me a towel, a glass of water, anything I could think of, while I got dressed again in the clothes I’d left tossed in the living room. And he kept talking nonstop, telling me he wanted to see me again soon, that if I agreed, he’d like us to be exclusive and keep enjoying each other together.

I agreed. And the encounters that followed got hotter and hotter. Face-up blowjobs at the edge of the bed, with his cock swelling my throat. Thrusts from behind with my ass held high. More finishes in the shower stall. Until the pandemic arrived and everything came crashing down from one day to the next.

But that’s another story, one I might tell you in another piece if you ask me to.

For now, writing this has helped me feel my body waking up again, that mix of excitement and nostalgia that man gave me in abundance. I hope I can soon feel someone inside me again, this time with a little more sense. Until then, I make do with the memory. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did reliving it.